Desert Flower
by LyricalRiot
Summary: A brief exploration of Rey's early days and years after being abandoned on Jakku.
1. One

On a deplorable, barren, lawless rock at the edge of known space, three humans emerged from the belly of a ramshackle tramp freighter. The crudely modified tug spat them out into an endless ocean of burning sand.

"Kriff, this place is _hot_ ," the woman complained, stopping at the bottom of the loading ramp to shield her eyes against the glare of relentless, vengeful sun.

"It's a desert," the man said gruffly, waving off an attendant who tried to solicit a refueling purchase. "What did you expect?"

"Why would anyone come here?"

"Same reason as us," he snapped, clearly in no mood to explain their needs _again._

The woman, never dissuaded from making her opinion heard, snorted derisively. "No wonder they can get away with selling illegal scraps. What decent person would ever come here?"

The man ignored this comment and moved off without her, starting across the sand-strewn landing pad that serviced the few foolhardy or desperate souls who chose to land on Jakku. Some were looking for fuel, but most were less than honest purveyors of used, inexpensive, under-the-table artifacts and scraps of the Old Empire and Rebellion, which this dustbowl churned out in steady supply. Right now, with the galaxy at last able to feel nostalgic about the epic tales of the war now that almost 15 years had passed since the Battle of Endor, salvage from the old battles was becoming highly valuable.

The woman heeled after him, tugging along the tiny slip of a child behind her.

Niima Outpost was the only place on the entire planet — in the entire region of space — equipped with a navigational beacon, and thus the only place where ships knew to land. The grungy little collection of canvas awnings and seedy opportunists wasn't big or important enough to be called village, or even a settlement. It was just a small gathering spot for the dirty art of bartering. Its Hutt origins were unmistakeable in the various structures erected among the canvas coverings. Fortunately for the three humans, and nearly everyone else who came through, Niima had died a long time ago. Hutts controlled trade through here no more.

But someone else did.

The man stopped a creature bustling past him, so swathed in dusty fabric that it was impossible to discern a species, and asked brusquely, "Where can I find Unkar Plutt?"

With an indignant squall, the shrouded creature brushed him aside, motioning to a stronghold in the center of the scattered constructions.

As the two adults shifted their trajectory towards this point, the small girl lagging behind them shifted her curious gaze in every direction. Even the woman's irritated admonition to _keep up_ could not keep her from whipping her head around, trying to take in all the strange sights of this new place. Her big eyes, green, and grey, and brown all at the same time, followed the movements of a giant hapabore trudging towards a water trough. The creature snorted a great bellowing grunt, thrilling her with a flash of fear that prompted her to gasp and scamper back to her parents.

They had been to other places — never the same one twice — but nowhere looked like this. The little girl saw that beyond the few tents, tarps, and old metal ships, the horizon stretched on and on in endless sand. Where did the people live? Why were they here? This seemed like a bad place to live.

A line of people stood before an old cargo crawler, modified with a caged window and fans circulating hot air through it. The man shouldered aside an Abednedo at the front of the line and confronted the creature inside the cage.

"Are you Plutt?" He demanded.

A huge blob of a being composed of gelatinous pink flesh the color of a new scar regarded the scrawny male shrewdly. "You selling or buying?"

"Maybe both," said the man.

Plutt grunted and waved him aside. "I'll be with you after I conclude this business."

"We aren't interested in staying on this godforsaken rock a minute longer than we need to," the man objected. "You'll deal with us now."

The Crolute made another motion with a pudgy, swollen hand and two figures wearing makeshift masks emerged from behind the crawler, swinging clubs.

Backpedaling quickly, the man held up his hands and resume his place beside the woman and the girl. "Alright, alright. We'll wait."

"Coward," the woman said dryly.

He flashed her a dangerous look. "You want to deal with them?"

She hooted in derision but made no move towards the thugs. "Kriff," she swore again. "Two minutes here and I'm already dying of thirst."

"We have water on the ship," he clipped.

"If we have to wait for all of them to take their turn first, I'm gonna need something a whole lot stronger than water."

Beside them, the little girl was still drowning in all the new things to look at. Most of the creatures who milled about them didn't look like anything she recognized. They all wore several layers of fabric, and many wore goggles. It looked like a collection of monsters waiting in line. But they had to wait _so long!_ Eventually she got tired and sat down in the sand, digging her fingers into the warm, soft grains. That was fun. She liked the way it ran through her fingers, kind of like water but rougher. She scooped it into a pile and plunged her hands so deep inside it looked like her arms ended at her wrists.

She entertained herself that way until there was only one person left in line, and her mother noticed her again.

"Stop it!" She grabbed the girl's arm and hauled her back to her feet. "You're getting filthy, and I don't want any part of this place coming aboard my ship, got it? Not one grain of stupid sand."

The girl wrenched out of the woman's grasp and brushed herself off. She bit back an angry protest. For a small thing of only five years, she'd learned well the lesson to not snap back when either of her parents got after her. It never ended well. In her primitive, juvenile way, she had determined that it was better the less they noticed her. And arguing was definitely something they'd notice.

Unkar Plutt made the couple wait until he'd dealt with every last scavenger, and then wait until he had tallied his day's haul. He had recognized their type the moment he laid his tiny, water eyes on them. They were prey, and he toyed with them until he was good and ready to hunt.

Finally, he waved them back over. When the man explained what they were looking for, the Crolute's fleshy face transformed into a hideous grin. "My associate will show you around back," he announced.

Another masked thug emerged and ushered them around into a side-door of the cargo crawler, herding the three humans into an open section behind the old ship, now turned into a private pavilion. It contained a table and chairs, and so many pieces of salvaged machinery it looked more like a nest of wires and metal than an inhabitable space.

" _Crinking_ pack rat," the woman hissed. "Look at this. We don't have anything to barter that he doesn't already have."

"Shut up," the man whispered sharply.

The Crolute emerged with a couple dingy glasses and a bottle. He bade them sit at the table — himself sinking into a chair that groaned under his considerable weight.

Negotiations began right away, though it was clear to all of them right from the start who had the upper hand. The man and woman were desperate, and though they tried to pretend otherwise, Plutt could smell it. He scrutinized them constantly, and made certain to provide them with a steady stream of imported drink as they tried to wheedle his price down for the valuable weapon they wanted.

He wasn't in the habit of asking his buyers why they wanted items — bad business, he knew. Still, he couldn't fathom why two incompetent hagglers such as this could want or need a weapon as rare as the one they were after. Not that they'd get it. They couldn't even almost afford the price, and he saw that quickly into their wheelings and dealings.

They were traders, and tried to offer various trades to sweeten the deal. None of it piqued his interest. They had nothing unique in their haul, all of it he could acquire from almost anyone else at a less costly trade.

"My scavengers die trying to acquire items such as this in working condition. I will not trade for junk. If you can't afford it, you can't have it."

"We _need it_ ," the woman demanded in a flash of temper. She might have been pretty once, for a human. Now her nutmeg hair and square face wore the look of too many poor decisions in the course of a disorganized, dissatisfying life. Plutt noticed how she nursed her drink — like someone who has gotten very good at it. "The Irving Boys need it. You don't like the offer, take it up with them."

"The Irving Boys?" Plutt chuckled, and the motion made his entire gelatinous body quiver. "You've made a bad trade with them. They'll call off your debts if you bring them what they want, is that it? Only, you wouldn't be in business with them if you were able to pay for things such as this yourselves."

"Look," the man said, setting down his own recently drained glass. Plutt filled it back up obligingly. "You can have our ship."

"Our ship?" The woman snarled, jabbing a sharp finger into his chest. "Kriffing idiot, how will _we_ get out of here?"

She didn't need to worry. Plutt said in flat, unimpressed tones, "I don't want it. It's about to fall apart."

While the adults haggled and argued, the tiny waif of a girl grew bored and began to wander around the junk-stuffed pavilion. She was no stranger to busted scraps, living aboard a tramp freighter as she did, but she'd never seen so much of it in one place. Some of it she didn't recognize. But something caught her eye which she _did_ recognize. A speeder. Broken and discarded in a corner, yes, but a speeder nonetheless. She ran to it, grinning excitedly. Tiny five-year-old arms hauled her up onto the seat and she grabbed the controls, pretending to drive it with soft whooshing sounds. She was careful to be quiet, all too familiar with the wrath she'd provoke if they decided she was being a nuisance.

As she messed around on top of the speeder, she noticed something on the control dangling — a thick wire, loose and disconnected. She swatted at it idly while she looked around for where it was supposed to go. She recognized broken things on instinct, and could sometimes figure out how to make it right again. Her gaze fell to place where it should connect.

Everything fit together. Always. Every piece had its place, and belonged with another. She liked that. She had always liked that. Making things fit back together was fun. Her tiny fingers sought out the loose connection and pulled at it. Somewhere inside the control shaft, it caught. She began to wiggle it around.

This place didn't have children. At least, she hadn't seen any. But sometimes they visited space ports where she did see others her own size. That was where she'd discovered puzzle boxes. A group of children was playing with them, figuring out how all the pieces worked together. She wanted to play too, but her parents had pulled her away, anxious to leave. She asked them if she could have a puzzle box too, and had earned their swift annoyance, so she didn't bring it up again. That was okay. She soon discovered that many of the things on their ship could be used like a puzzle box.

They had lots of spare parts and broken things. She could pretend they were puzzles by pulling them apart and figuring out how to make them go back together.

The snag came loose and she was able to pull the connector up to the dangling part. Snapping it together again, a little chime on the speeder's electrical readout rewarded her effort. She smiled.

The big blobby creature looked her way, and she felt another flash of fear. She scrambled off quickly before he could get after her for touching his things.

With a furious huff, the woman hauled herself out of her chair and came over, snatching the girl's arm and dragging her back to the table. " _Don't touch anything,"_ she hissed.

The blob's eyes followed her. She snuck a quick glance his way and decided he was yucky.

She stood by her mother's chair for a few minutes, attention wandering once more as the conversation at the table resumed. In another corner of the cluttered pavilion, she saw a dusty old droid with half its body missing. Her fingers twitched and she shifted restlessly. She waited until the grown ups were thoroughly engrossed in their argument again and then slowly crept away. They didn't notice.

They almost ever noticed.

The droid was very old, but she saw some pieces that matched parts stashed away among her parent's trading cargo. She sat down next to it in the dust, grabbing the main processor brain out of its exposed insides and turning it over in her hands. This piece made the droids talk, or beep, depending on the droid. This she knew because one time she'd taken apart a working droid her parents had acquired. They'd be _so angry_. But after they fell asleep, she went back and fixed her mistake, putting everything back just the way she found it. The droid worked again, with no memory of what happened, and her parents sold it the next day.

She thought it might make them happy to see it fixed, but they stayed angry. That was alright. She felt better than she'd fixed her error and brought the droid back to life.

This one was missing too many pieces to be made right and alive again. Still, this was something interesting to do while they went about all their boring talk.

Her stomach rumbled hungrily, and wondered if she should mention this. Sometimes her mother obliged her, and sometimes she swatted her away. She glanced up to see what the mood was, and found that big ugly blob watching her _again_!

Quickly she put the processor brain back inside, attaching some of the wires that weren't attached before. Hopefully that would appease the big pink monster.

"Does that small creature belong to you?" Plutt asked.

The man's eyes flicked to the girl, a frown tugging at his mouth. "I know what it looks like, but she won't ruin anything. She'll put it all back the way she found it. Don't try to blame us for your broken machines. She fixes crap on our ship all the time so I'll know you're lying if you try to pin her for it."

"Get over here," the woman snapped.

The girl came running. Her mother's fingers closed around her wrist sharply. She didn't try to pull away.

"What's the matter with you? Can't you see we're in the middle of something important? Stop wandering off. Sit down and stay still."

The girl sat, sinking down next to the woman's seat. She smelled a familiar sting in her mother's breath, and knew what kind of night it would be. Her parents would act like their brains had been melted for a while, and then they'd fall into a sleep so deep she thought they were dead. She always thought that. But they always woke up. Life was predictable that way.

That was fine. She'd sneak some food off to her room and play with her makeshift puzzle boxes.

"No deal," Plutt announced with finality.

The man and woman looked at one another in frustration. They both knew the grim truth. Their funds were low — maybe not even enough to get off planet.

"But," Plutt continued, drawing their attention back. "You don't need it."

"Yes we do," the woman insisted.

"This is Jakku. Nobody cares about you now that you're here," Plutt said acidly. "You're off the Irving map. Stay, and you're in the clear."

"Stay?" The man scoffed. "And become one of your scavenger slaves?"

"They aren't slaves." Plutt's watery eye turned on the girl again. "Or leave, if you like. But you _can_ disappear here. I'll even set you up with a little starter fund."

This gave them enough pause to glance at one another and then lean forward in their chairs expectantly.

Plutt relished the feeling of a catch. He savored it. "The girl."

Their eyes remained fixed on the mass of blubbery flesh. The man blinked. "What girl?"

"That one." Plutt pointed at the waif drawing doodles in the sand. "I'll pay you for her."

The woman's brow lifted skeptically. "You'd trade her for the part?"

"No," snapped Plutt. He leveled his voice again. "But I'll pay you two hundred credits for her."

"Two hundred?" The woman repeated.

The man's brow furrowed and he glanced at the child. "What do you want with a runty little thing like that anyway?"

"That's my business," Plutt said reflexively. Then he paused and considered. These parents did not seem as if they held any great affection for the child, but perhaps they had some base level protectiveness that would hinder this deal. Humans only ever had reproduction on the mind — no wonder they were a prolific plague sweeping over the galaxy. They had to be reassured that no such thing was intended here. He provided a bit more detail to set their minds at ease. "The tinkerers demand outrageous prices for every minor repair. I no longer want to pay that. If she's as good at tinkering as you say, I could use her talents to put those swindlers out of business."

"Three hundred," the man haggled.

"Two hundred, three hundred," Plutt leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "What does it matter? It wont save you from the Irvings, but it could help you disappear."

The woman lowered her voice and leaned in to the man, as if Plutt wouldn't be able to hear. "He's right, it isn't enough to pay them off, but if we stay here, or head off into the Unknown Regions, it could be enough to start us a new life."

The man studied her, nodding slowly. "The Unknown Regions would be a bad plan, but we can stick to the outer rim."

Plutt knew their type. He knew they'd blow all of it within weeks, probably on drinking or gambling. Still, it didn't matter what they did with his offer. He only cared about getting his hands on the useful child with her sharp mind and small body. She would be a handy addition to so many scavenging efforts.

After a moment of deliberation, they agreed.

The woman stuck out her hand. "Three hundred, and it's a deal."

Plut smiled a hideous, sickly smile and extended his own pudgy appendage, sealing the agreement with a shake.

With no notion of what bargain had just been struck, the girl continued drawing a finger through the sand and busying her active mind with a little game of imagination. In it she imagined her father let her sit on his lap in the pilot's seat and fly their tug for real. She got to zoom all around the galaxy and visit all the prettiest place. Only the pretty ones though, never anywhere ugly like this sandpit.

When the adult stood up, she stood too. Their business must have concluded. Good. She was hot and tired and thirsty, and ready to escape the creepy, watchful stare of the blobby thing. Her father would have a little trouble getting them into space, she knew, with his breath smelling like that, but at least they'd go. She could settle down to her broken things without anyone snapping at her or watching her.

Her parents received money from the pink monster, and then they turned to go. She trotted after them.

Her mother turned around and gave her an icy look. "No," she said firmly. "You stay right here."

The girl stopped, confused.

"Wait here," her mother said again.

"Just wait," reiterated her father.

Oh. She watched them walk off, obeying with a sense of unease. Was it not time to go after all? She looked around, not sure she wanted to wait around her by herself with that big jiggly monster while her parents did whatever they were going to do. She fidgeted impatiently. Why she did need to wait? What were they going to do?

A few minutes later a distant, but familiar whine signaled the firing of their old ship's engines whirring to life at the launch bay. She jumped with panic, eyes widening. They were…they were powering up? But she wasn't aboard! Did they forget? They must have forgotten.

Her tiny legs sprang into a frantic sprint and she dashed through the maze of tent poles and legs and machine parts. Behind her, the blobby beast started bellowing.

No, no, they wouldn't forget her. They were just…getting the ship ready? Testing it? Why…?

She cleared the canopies and ran out into the sun, feet sinking into the soft sand as she tried to get to the terminal. To her horror, she saw the ship lifting clear of the ground already, the glow of its old engines brightening as it turned and headed into the sky. No!

 _NO!_

She screamed, trying to run but slowed by the sand sucking at her feet, shifting beneath her steps.

The monster caught up with her and grabbed her arm. He yanked her back, snarling for her to be quiet.

But she couldn't hear him, couldn't think. Desperate shrieks burst from her tiny lungs, begging the ship to come back. Tears welled in her eyes. Panic and fear made her hop from foot to foot, straining against the grimy hand on her arm.

"Come back!" She sobbed.

The ship blasted off towards the stratosphere, carrying her parents and the only life she knew far, far away.

Dragged back to the cargo crawler by the blob, the girl was unceremoniously tossed into a junk heap and told that if she tried to run away, she'd die in the sands and no one would ever find her. Then he left.

The girl sobbed and sobbed, curling herself up into a tight ball. She couldn't understand or make sense of the heartbreak that crushed her tiny little soul. Sadness wrapped around her, and the icy brush of loneliness. The only thing she knew about what had happened was that her parents told her to wait, and then they'd left her here. They'd gone without her. She was alone, and she didn't know why.

* * *

AN:

Hey everyone! Welcome to this story exploring Rey's early days on Jakku. Not quite sure how far this will go yet, it's mostly just a fun thing to work on while I also work on my larger Ep 9 fic, DFN;DFL. In regards to this scene, this is what I imagine Ben saw glimpses of during that steamy Ahch-To touch.

Let me know what you think!


	2. Two

Life for the tiny girl left in the desert had never been easy, by the usual standard. The adults who ought to have sheltered her from the harsh realities of the world paid her little heed, except to exploit her talents when it suited them. Still, her tiny, innocent heart was wrapped in the blissful ignorance of childhood and preserved her. She did not know whether her life were easy or difficult. She did not know if her parents were good ones or bad ones. She just knew what was.

And now, she knew what wasn't.

The child had never spent a more sleepless and miserable night. When her tears exhausted her to the point of sleep, the deep desert cold woke her only a few hours later, and she suffered through the terrifying loneliness of a dark night in an unfamiliar place. She didn't understand how somewhere so hot could become so cold. Once more, her little soul broke into pleading sobs which rang into the night until someone snarled a complaint in an unknown language and threw something into the pavilion. It clanged harmlessly off the junk heap surrounding the girl, but it scared her enough to silence her. She curled up and whimpered herself back to sleep.

In the morning, The Blob showed up again.

The little girl tried to hide within the junk, hoping he wouldn't see her.

He set a glass of water on the table where her parents had made their deal.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked gruffly, not looking her way.

She was. She'd woken with a throat that hurt and a stomach that ached. But the question wasn't issued in a kind way, and she was too afraid to answer.

His small, watery eyes found her immediately. They flashed with dangerous light. "I said, are you thirsty, girl?"

She jumped at the snapping growl and slid out of the junk. Unable to summon her voice, she nodded.

"Take a sip," he ordered.

The girl crept forward, keeping a wary eye on the huge pink mass. She reached for the cup and took a shy gulp. The water spread through her like a cool, sweet balm. It felt good. Maybe The Blob wasn't so bad. Scary looking, but maybe he was nice. She guzzled greedily until he snatched it away again, spilling a little on the sand.

"Enough," he commanded.

She reached reflexively for the cup and received a sharp smack pushing her away from it.

"You want more?" He asked, taunting now.

Despite her flare of anger, she nodded.

"Fix this." He handed her a piece of equipment with wires sticking out every which way.

She stared at it in confusion. What was it? And why did he want her to fix it? No, she didn't want to do that. She didn't want anything to do with it. She tossed it away and reached again for the cup.

He shoved her back roughly. She sat down hard in the sand.

"No," he barked. "Nothing here is free. You want water? You'll earn it. You want food? You'll work."

Apparently that was all he intended to say on the matter, because he turned and went back into his cargo crawler, shutting the door behind him and the cup of water.

The little girl stared at the door, fighting back furious tears. She just wanted to drink a little more, and maybe eat something. Whatever inkling she'd had that maybe the blob-monster was nice vanished. She knew he wasn't. Her tears dried up.

If her parents had taught her anything through their example, it was to not linger in any place too long. This was definitely too long. She wasn't going to stick around and be told to fix things for water. She was going home.

Finding her way out wasn't difficult. Either The Blob didn't intend to keep her trapped or he was very bad at building cages. She was able to climb out and over the walls of his junk collection and dropped down into the sand of a surprisingly busy outpost. Creatures of all kinds brushed past her, hauling scraps or arguing with each other in a swirl of sounds she didn't recognize. Most of them were clothed in the same kind of earth-colored fabric, wrapped over every inch of exposed skin or fur. The little girl, who had seen many kinds of species throughout her family's travels, couldn't recognize any of them.

Everyone ignored her. She ducked and darted her way through them — around washing stations and dodging tent poles, trying to find her way back to the landing terminal from yesterday. No one stopped her. No one yelled at her. No one snatched her back to the pavilion.

It took her a while, but eventually she found her way back to the terminal. No ships were docked there today. No points of light in the sky signaled a landing any time soon. Still, she knew they'd return. They'd told her to wait — that meant they intended to return. Probably they'd just neglected to tell her that she'd have to spend the night here. That hadn't happened before, but they were forgetful sometimes. They needed a droid to keep their heads straight again. When she was very little, they'd had one. It helped them take care of her and remind them of things they needed to do. But her memories of the droid were hazy, unclear. She knew they'd sold it a long time ago.

They were coming back. They were.

She sat down in the sand to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The sun climbed higher in the sky. The air shimmered on the horizon, like water. She squinted, trying to see the lake better. If there was water out there, why did the people build this place so far away from it? She sucked on her lip, remembering her growing thirst. Maybe she could walk there, drink some water, and get back before her family came.

But some instinctual fear kept her rooted to the patch of sand on which she sat. Perhaps it was a fear of missing the moment when her parents returned, or more likely, a fear of wandering further out into this terrifying new world.

Some time in the afternoon, she began to shiver despite the stifling heat. Her head spun. She didn't notice when a masked creature — one of the same from yesterday — came and roughly dragged her into the shade. Fighting through her heat exhaustion, she strained to hear the sound of engines whining through the atmosphere. Coming back for her.

All day she waited.

By the time the sun sank behind a featureless horizon, her stomach felt sick, her head pounded, and her skin felt tight, hot, and stingy. But worse than these hurts was the wound in her heart. No one had come today. She tried to cry, but no tears would come and her throat stuck to itself when she tried to swallow. A dry, tearless wail rose from some deep place inside her.

It echoed into the night. Unheard. Unanswered. A cry gone out into a universe where no one was listening. Distant stars began to wink through the twilight gloom. Faraway places where her parents might be. Faraway hope. She felt small, and sad, and lost.

The masked thing returned and hauled her back to The Blob's pavilion where she was once again dumped for the night. The thing he wanted her to fix was back on the table, retrieved from wherever she'd flung it. Her young, perceptive mind could discern the message it sent. Fix it, and you get to drink.

She snatched it off the table and turned it over in her hands the same way she'd done before. If this was a puzzle, it was too hard. She didn't know what it belonged to, or how to make it right. She tried to poke the wires into a few slots, but they popped back out. No use. Back on the table it went.

She curled up on the ground by the broken droid and tried to forget about her painful skin, her sticky mouth, and her pounding head.

The next day was a repeat of the day before, except that The Blob didn't come back to offer water and the thing he wanted her to fix stayed on the table. She went back to the landing platform — this time staying in the shade. Her skin hurt _a lot_ that day. She spent her time blowing on her arms, trying to take away the stinging, but that made her dizzy and more thirsty, and eventually she had to stop.

No one came that day either. By evening, she felt like she was going to throw up. She got up and stumbled around the outpost, begging whatever creature she could find for water. They all shoved her off roughly or ignored her. No one gave her a second glance. Not one.

Eventually she bumped into a short wall and almost fell into a huge trough of — _water_! Even as she plunged her face into it and greedily drank, she remembered the huge trundling creature when they arrived. The water did not taste like The Blob's glass — this was decidedly more yucky. But she kept drinking anyway because it felt good on her face and felt good on her throat and felt good in her stomach.

When she couldn't drink anymore, she splashed water on her prickling arms. It helped a little. She thought about climbing in and letting all of it wash over her. That would feel nice.

But the masked thing showed up again and once more dragged her back to the pavilion, same as before. She didn't even bother trying to look at the fixing part tonight. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she could think about something other than being thirsty. But all that did was leave a giant hole in her heart when she remembered her parents still hadn't come back. But maybe…maybe they _had_ to leave her for a while. Maybe they were coming back, but just in a few days.

It was easier to hope when she wasn't so thirsty. Though now her stomach remembered it was hungry too.

Tomorrow she'd figure out how to get food.

Sometime in the night, she woke in _agony._ Her stomach clenched and turned, roiling like a stormy sea. She sat up, gasping, tears pricking her eyes. The whole of her entire, tiny frame was violently wracked with retching heaves and she emptied all of the foul water back into the sand. She choked and threw up more, and more, until she was just dry-heaving by the end. Then she _did_ cry. And no amount of complaints from unseen neighbors could quiet her.

In the morning, she didn't go to the landing platform. She wandered around the Outpost, looking for food and water that wouldn't make her throw up. She didn't find any. Whenever she loitered too long in one place someone inevitably shooed her away. Eventually she found the Tinkerers. Of course she didn't know they were called Tinkerers, she only knew that they were fixing things. She hid herself under a canvas-covered pile of scrap and watched them. It was more interesting than being shoved around like a nuisance. And definitely more interesting than staring sadly at an empty landing bay.

The Tinkerers jabbered in all kinds of sounds she didn't understand, but she enjoyed them. They were funny sounds. And she liked watching them fix the various pieces brought to them. When they fixed things, people gave them money, or food. That piqued her interest. She watched these exchanges and finally understood. The Blob wanted her to do that. He wasn't offering money, but water, in exchange for her fixing.

Late in the afternoon, when the sun was starting to sink low again, a ship _did_ land. As soon as she heard it approaching, she sprinted with all her waning strength towards the landing pad — but the ship wasn't familiar. Three huge Wookies emerged from it. She followed them back to The Blob, trying to ask them if they knew her parents. They, like everyone else, paid her no attention.

They dealt with The Blob and went away again.

The girl didn't cry again. She watched them leave, went straight back to the pavilion, and started playing around with the thing she was supposed to fix. It still didn't make any sense to her, but somewhere in her soul she knew death was winding its long fingers around her and the time had come to survive. The tiny little flame that had always burned in her deepest caverns, the one that gave her the resilience to survive her unpleasant upbringing, flared into a determined blaze - bright and stronger than she'd ever needed it to be before. Her child's mind could not comprehend this change, could not consciously examine it, but she knew she wasn't willing to die here.

The next morning, she presented The Blob with a thing that now whirred and purred softly in her hands. She still didn't know what it belonged to, but it _felt_ right. In reward, The Blob gave her water and food. She took them, and ate and drank until her stomach started to hurt. There, she made herself stop. She didn't want to throw up again, and she didn't know when food was coming again. Best hoard it.

Thus the little girl abandoned in the sand began to understand the first law of Jakku: Nothing is free. No one would help. In Unkar Plutt there was survival. There was life. To eat, one must do what he asks.

She settled into a routine after that. She'd spend the morning watching the landing platform, the afternoon watching the Tinkerers, and the evening fixing things. This earned her food and water enough for one day, and fought back the shadowy specter that had threatened to take her. And all the while she waited. Because surely this was a mistake. They would be back. They would.


End file.
